


Ruckus

by PurpleMoon3



Series: dresden_kink fills [6]
Category: Baccano!, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossover, Gen, He doesn't even show up, Immortal Mobsters, Isaac and Miria have always struck me as siblings, Not Harry's Fault, Sue the Dinosaur, fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9133012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMoon3/pseuds/PurpleMoon3
Summary: Isaac and Miria are up their old (new?) tricks.  As happily oblivious as ever.  Of course the Mafia takes notice.





	1. The Morning News

"Wow, look at her!" Miria exclaimed as she clung to Isaac's arm. "She's huge! And some guy really rode her through downtown?"  
  
"Indeed he did, my dear Miria." Isaac responded solemnly as he tipped his new fedora back and gazed up at the massive skeletal structure. "Think of the History this beauty has witnessed, and to be subject to such disrespect..." He tutted, shaking his head.  
  
"Then we must take her!" Miria exclaimed. She stepped over the red velvet marking off the recently re-opened dinosaur exhibit. "Poor thing needs a good, safe home. Isaac!"  
  
"Miria!"  
  
The two linked hands and latched onto one of the large leg bones of the standing display. Together, they stroked the white fossil and gave sniffling cries: "Sue!"

\---

  
_"Upon this morning's opening of the Field Museum, it was discovered that the beloved Tyrannosaurus Rex, affectionately named Sue, is missing. Despite the increased security since last years vandalism, in which the front doors were blown off and exhibit was discovered several miles away scattered about a park, the culprits managed infiltrate the museum dressed as prohibition era gangsters._

_"As you can see in this security footage, the two thieves appear to be wielding Tommy-guns firing paint-balls which were used to eliminate most of the cameras..."_  
  
Hendricks stared at the screen as the newscaster continued her commentary. He watched grainy tape of a blonde woman and a brunette man. They paused once, coats whirling, and stood back-to-back in an obvious pose for the last security camera, smiling brightly. Hendrick's turned his gaze back to his textbook, and sighed.  
  
His cell phone beeped.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Marcone?"


	2. Take One Down...

"Sir," A young, perky voice called from the speaker on his desk. Gentleman Johnny Marcone glanced up from his paperwork, and tapped the button to acknowledge his secretary.  
  
"Miss Fields?"  
  
"There's a package for you, it came express mail." There was rustling over the line. "With a note. 'Compliments on the clean up, the Martillo Family.'"  
  
"I see. Send it up." Marcone set his paperwork aside and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Before starting his campaign to take Chicago, he'd done the research. It was important to know all potential allies and rivals. The Martillos were a small, very small, old-fashioned family operating out of New York. It would have been a wonder as to how they hadn't been swallowed up by the larger, more networked organizations... except for the fact that anyone who had interfered in their business or stepped into their territory ended up dead with the cliché of cement shoes.  
  
Marcone could remember Vargassi complaining about them: an annoying bunch of relics that refused to do business with him, even when it would forward their own prospects. How a small fortune had been spent to place a bomb in one of their restaurants during a meeting, and yet every last one of the controlling family members made it out alive.  The response had left several of Vargassi's underbosses underground, and sped up Marcone's plans considerably.  It would be a lie to say his younger self hadn't taken some small measure of inspiration from the supposed relics.  
  
There was a knock on the office door, and Hendricks opened it, accepting the package from one of the girls. Marcone doubted there would be anything dangerous in it; all his deliveries were checked for dangerous substances, magical or otherwise, before being brought to his attention. Still, it didn't hurt to be cautious.  
  
"Flask." Hendricks placed the small box on the desk.  
  
Marcone lifted a small silver whiskey flask out of the packing peanuts, mildly curious. He had been half expecting a severed finger... he unscrewed the top and gave a hesitant sniff. "Beer?"  
  
Why would they send him beer?  No matter.  A small gift, a small thing to accept rather than deal with the irritant that the Martillos taking offense would be.  
  
He took a pair of shot glasses from a desk drawer and filled them, offering one to his loyal vassal. "Mr. Hendricks?"


End file.
